


Catch the Rain

by meridianpony



Series: dancing in the rain [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Blyla, F/M, I'm so weak for these two, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24339991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meridianpony/pseuds/meridianpony
Summary: It’s raining.Bly likes how it smells. There’s something earthy and pleasant about it here. On Kamino, rain means lightning and ozone that clogs the air until it’s hard to breathe. Here, he inhales the scent slowly, and understands for the first time why rain is such a big deal to nat-borns. It smells like life. The sound of the droplets against the giant leaves above them is soothing in a way that he hadn’t expected to enjoy.He thinks that General Secura is enjoying it as well. She is silent next to him, eyes closed, breathing deeply. He can’t tell if she’s meditating or just listening. Either way she seems more relaxed than he’s seen her this entire campaign.
Relationships: CC-5052 | Bly/Aayla Secura
Series: dancing in the rain [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790515
Comments: 26
Kudos: 269





	Catch the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> @thatfunkyopossum threatened me with bodily harm if I didn't post this so here it is ha! Some Blyla is good for the soul.

It’s raining. 

Bly likes how it smells. There’s something earthy and pleasant about it here. On Kamino, rain means lightning and ozone that clogs the air until it’s hard to breathe. Here, he inhales the scent slowly, and understands for the first time why rain is such a big deal to nat-borns. It smells like _life_. The sound of the droplets against the giant leaves above them is soothing in a way that he hadn’t expected to enjoy. 

He thinks that General Secura is enjoying it as well. She is silent next to him, eyes closed, breathing deeply. He can’t tell if she’s meditating or just listening. Either way she seems more relaxed than he’s seen her this entire campaign. 

They’ve been on this planet for a month already. It’s not the most difficult mission Bly has ever been involved with, though it’s no cakewalk either. The planet is full of quaint little villages and trees as far as the eye can see. The droids have been falling back for a week now, abandoning their outposts, and victory seems to be close at hand. 

General Secura has been unusually pensive since the moment they first disembarked the cruiser to set foot on this planet. Bly had been concerned at first, until one morning she’d stared up into the sky (sprawling endless blue that matches her skin and _stop right there_ —) and sighed deeply. 

“It is beautiful, this planet. It is a pity that so much of it will be destroyed. It is full of life. The Force is strong here. It sings of contentment and peace.”

“We’ll try not to destroy it, sir,” Bly had told her distractedly, a holo-map and a dozen different battle strategies in front of him. He’d been confused when she had frowned at him before striding away to check on the men. 

He… hadn’t liked that expression. He’d seen it before, but never directed at him. He’d surprised himself with how disgruntled he was for the rest of the day. 

He’d surprised himself even more when he found himself searching for the strategy that would leave them with the least amount of terrain damage possible. 

The men weren’t necessarily happy with him. They’d brought flamethrowers and were _very_ disappointed to be banned from using them. Bly is still getting flak for it even a month in, but he doesn’t care. General Secura is happier this way, and it isn’t the most difficult thing to avoid doing unnecessary damage to their surroundings. There’s considerably less explosives involved than normal, but that doesn’t diminish the 327th’s effectiveness. Bly’s men are the best, of course—once they get over their disappointment, they’re riled up at the prospect of a challenge. They rise to the occasion as always. Bly is prouder of them than he’d ever admit out loud. 

Most of his men are currently huddled under low-hanging branches around them, scattered beneath different trees to avoid the rain. It isn’t a heavy rainfall, but they’re waiting around for a few scouts to return before they can advance and no brother wants to be wet if he can help it. 

“Do you see it, Commander?”

Bly freezes at the question, hand tightening around his gun automatically. He scans the treeline for enemies and tenses further when he can’t find anything. 

“Sir? Droids?”

She hums softly. Amusement curls at the edge of the sound. 

“No. Peace, Bly. We are safe here.”

“If you say so,” he tells her, and he means it. She always speaks the truth. He trusts her unconditionally for it. He loosens his hold around his blaster. “If there aren’t any droids, what is it that I’m supposed to be looking for?”

“The rain, Commander.”

Bly blinks out at the landscape around them, at the rain pouring down from the sky to trickle across roots and grass and stone. A droplet chooses that exact moment to worm its way through the leaves above them and plunk onto the top of Bly’s helmet. He raises an eyebrow pointedly. 

“Yes, sir. It’s hard to miss.”

He’s aware that she has some ulterior motive to asking. He just doesn’t know what it is yet. She lets out a soft laugh at his answer. He almost grins— _almost,_ before he manages his expression into something more professional. 

“It is hard to miss,” she agrees with a fond smile. “But there are many details that one does indeed miss, if they are not paying close enough attention.”

Bly tilts his head. She has his attention. (She always has his attention. He couldn’t pull it away from her if he _tried_ —)

“What do you mean by that, sir?”

She doesn’t answer him. Instead, she steps out from under their leafy cover. Bly winces. 

“General... if you catch a cold the medics will come after me—”

She tilts her head up, eyes closed, face towards the clouds, shoulders dropping, arms outstretched, palms upward to catch the rain. The rest of his words die in his throat. 

He doesn’t like water, had struggled with ARC training’s SCUBA section and barely made it through, he doesn’t like rain even though he likes how it smells this time, but—he wants to step out after her, suddenly. He wants to feel the water run trails down his head and vibrate against his skull. He takes an aborted step forwards, hesitates. 

“Sir...”

She gestures to him with one lek, raising and curling it in a distinct “come here”. Bly mutters a half-hearted curse and steps out into the rain. It drums softly against his armor.

He’s trying not to look at her too much. The water droplets glisten like cut kyber crystals against her skin. It’s... ethereal, somehow. Like it isn’t even real. Something out of a dream. 

His heart skips a beat against his will. He stiffens. Absolutely not. Not allowed. No, no, no. 

“Lock it down, soldier,” he mutters from between clenched teeth—but the words don’t help. General Secura opens her eyes and glances over at him, curious.

“What did you say, Commander?”

“Uh—” Kriff kriff _kriff_ — “Nothing, sir. Just talking to myself, that’s all.”

“Please, Commander. I value your thoughts. You’re welcome to share.”

Force save him. He scrambles for something to say. 

“I was just thinking...” He casts his gaze upward, pleading for salvation, and suddenly, he _sees._

The rain spirals down, colliding softly against his visor. He can see every droplet plummeting towards him. It’s hypnotizing. He’s never looked at rain like this—he’s always rushed to escape it, to avoid the cold and the frustrating struggle that is removing wet blacks. From this new perspective he feels... small. Small and young, watching laws and powers and energies shift, continuing their patterns that have existed for eternities, their cycles that will never end. It’s breathtaking. General Secura must be rubbing off on him. It’s not something he would have been able to appreciate a few months ago. 

“Ah,” General Secura says. The pleased note of her voice sends warmth curling down Bly’s spine. “Now you see.”

“Yeah,” Bly mumbles clumsily. He reaches up and takes his helmet off. It makes everything _sharper_ somehow, more real—it’s cold and he has to squint because the water keeps dripping into his eyes but he can taste it on his lips now. Droplets tumble against the crown of his head like light fingers tapping at his scalp. A stream of water slides down the back of his skull, gentle as a caress. He takes a deep breath. It’s easy to get caught up in the sensations and _relax_. Just for a moment. 

He hates water. But this is different. This, he doesn’t mind. 

(It... may or may not have something to do with who’s next to him. But—no, it doesn’t. What a foolish thought.)

When he finally looks down at her, she’s smiling again. It’s something soft, something tender. There are water droplets dripping off of the points of her lekku. She looks happy. She looks at peace. Her eyes are bright. 

He wants to—

_Stop._

He steps away and clears his throat. His arms tuck themselves behind his back as he straightens, schooling his expression into something neutral. He shoves his helmet back on. _He doesn’t want to but he has to—_

“Thank you, sir,” he says awkwardly. “That was... nice.” Understatement. But he can’t say anything more.

She doesn’t seem put out by his stunted words. She nods at him with a hint of patience so immense that he couldn’t even hope to match it. 

“Will you see to the men now?” she asks him. Her voice isn’t quite the same as it had been a few moments ago, but it’s still affectionate. He swallows. 

“Yessir. I’ll make sure everything is prepared for our next assault.” He’s proud of how steady his voice is. Lock it down. Hide it away. There’s no place for this on the battlefield. There’s no place for it _ever,_ sithspit, he shouldn’t even—

He spins on his heel and marches away from her. The rain continues to tap against his armor incessantly. The sound is tainted by the peaceful memory now, by the sensation of cool water trickling against his cheeks and the sight of diamond raindrops transforming blue skin to sapphires as they cling to her brow. He fights to shake it away, to focus, to settle back into the Commander Bly that ignores those things and does his duty. 

It’s harder every single time, but he manages. He has to. Bly knows his place. 

The rain continues, and he ignores it. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm listing this as a completed work for now but I could definitely come back to it later so keep your eyes open. I like writing Bly and Aayla more than I anticipated and there is a sad lack of Blyla in the ao3 archive so I'm planning on fixing that at some point ha! @meridiansdominoes on tumblr for more! <3


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